Page 5

Chapter two

Annabella

B y the time we crossed the street, I could see this wasn’t just a simple transaction.

Three more rippers had appeared from the alley behind the SUV, all showing various stages of ripple dependency.

One was rocking back and forth, whispering, “Impure, they’re all impure,” to himself.

Another kept scratching at his arms as though trying to claw his way to a Shift that wouldn’t come.

The dealer had opened his trunk, and I could see a medium-sized metal case in the back.

“This is a major supply run, not a quick street deal,” I murmured, knowing Duke could hear me. “There’ll be more addicts coming.”

“I count at least two armed guards,” Duke rumbled beside me. “Plus the driver.”

“Zeke, stay back until we secure the scene,” I ordered into my comms unit. “Lydia, non-lethal spells only.”

“How considerate of you to specify,” Lydia replied dryly in my earpiece.

We approached from different angles—me from the front, Duke circling around the back of the SUV, Lydia maintaining distance for spell coverage.

My plan was simple: disable the dealers, secure the drugs, and be back at the café before our contact gave up on us.

The addicts would probably bounce as soon as we made our move.

The universe, as usual, had other plans.

One of the addicts spotted us first. “Yo, bitch!” He pointed at me as he lurched forward. “You. You are the most impure of all!”

Lovely.

Behind him, the guards drew guns.

“Gun!” I shouted, diving behind a parked car as gunshots pinged against the bodywork. So much for a quick intervention. And now I had civilians to worry about.

Duke roared as he darted toward the closest guard, seemingly unbothered by the bullets that might be coming his way. He slammed into the armed man with enough force to send them both crashing into the side of the SUV.

I moved in low and fast, focusing on the driver, who jumped out of the car with a handgun.

The driver turned, but too late—my boot connected with his wrist, sending the gun skittering across the pavement.

He lunged at me, but he was sloppy in his technique.

I ducked, drove my knee into his chest, then followed with an elbow to the back of his neck as he doubled over. He collapsed to the pavement.

“Annabella, behind you!” Mira’s voice crackled through my earpiece.

The ripper had reached me. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated so far that only a thin ring of brown remained.

He came at me like a bullet of rage. I braced for impact, but an orange flash arced through the air, striking the ground at the addict’s feet.

The binding spell activated on impact, silver-blue threads of magic wrapping around the addict’s legs and up, capturing his arms against his body.

He went tumbling to the asphalt and convulsed on the ground.

“I thought you weren’t interested in helping,” I said into the comm piece.

“I’m not,” Lydia replied. “I’m interested in leaving. Which requires you to remain alive.”

I spun at a crash from behind the SUV. Duke had one guard on the ground, but another was lifting his gun, aiming at his back.

Fuck! I knew I wouldn’t reach him in time.

Then a blur of motion caught my eye—a figure vaulting over the top of the SUV in a single explosive leap.

He seemed to hang in the air for an impossible moment, silhouetted against the streetlights, before crashing down on the guard.

Before I could reach either of them, he had twisted the guard’s wrist with a sickening crack, then slammed him against the vehicle’s frame hard enough to dent the metal.

The guard dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

Okay, then.

The stranger turned, and for a moment, our eyes met across the chaos.

Tall, lean muscle wrapped in confidence, shoulder-length brown hair that had fallen across sharp cheekbones.

The urge to push those strands back hit me so hard that I had to curl my fingers into fists.

His scent wrapped around me—wood smoke and rich chocolate with a bright note of lime that marked him as Shifter—but it was that grin that undid me.

He was actually fucking grinning in the middle of a gunfight, all easy confidence and dangerous charm, the kind of trouble I’d spent years avoiding.

Then his eyes found mine—light green with flecks of gold—and something hot and liquid pooled low in my belly.

The reaction was so unexpected, so unwelcome, that I almost missed the next attack.

Movement flashed in my peripheral vision—another addict with a broken bottle aimed at my face.

I twisted away, but the jagged glass still caught my shoulder, slicing through leather and into skin.

Then the stranger was there, faster than should have been possible, his hand snapping around the addict’s wrist. One sharp twist and the bottle went flying.

His knee drove up between the guy’s legs with devastating accuracy.

The addict went down, retching and clutching himself.

The stranger turned and did a quick eye sweep of me, eyeing the rip in my jacket.

“I had him,” I snapped, both irritated and oddly flustered. “And I’ve seen strippers make less theatrical entrances than you just did.”

“Says the woman who just tried to stop a bottle with her shoulder. Good technique, by the way.”

“Just who the hell are you?” I demanded as bullets slammed into the SUV, and we both ducked.

“The guy who’s going to buy you a drink when this is over, Moonbeam. Assuming we don’t get shot first.”

Moonbeam? Just who the fuck was this guy?

“Don’t call me Moonbeam,” I said, peeking over the hood of the SUV.

The dealer was making a break for it, clutching the case from the trunk. Two remaining guards were providing cover fire.

“You want the left or the right?” he asked, meeting my eyes with a raised eyebrow.

“Left.”

Then we moved, in almost perfect synchronization, as we sprung over the hood and sprinted toward the guards, Lydia altering the trajectory of the bullets so they ricocheted off the pavement.

My target snarled and swung his weapon toward my head, but I was already dropping low, sliding under his aim as I swept his legs. He crashed down hard, gun spinning away across the asphalt. Before he could recover, I pressed my palm against his forehead. “ Somnus .”

As a half-witch who only started training in magic when she was eighteen, my abilities were raw and untrained. I couldn’t do a spell from far away like Lydia, but up close, in contact with a person, my spells packed a punch. The guard dropped, unconscious.

I spun around to find the stranger standing over his unconscious target while Duke grappled with the dealer on the asphalt. I started toward them, but Duke’s fist connected with the guy’s jaw first, dropping him instantly.

Silence fell over the street. All our targets were down. Duke snatched up the suitcase and stalked toward us, his scent sharp with territorial aggression. I knew exactly what was coming.

“You! Who the fuck are you?” Duke jabbed his finger into the stranger’s chest. “We had it under control!”

The stranger’s gaze drifted lazily to the guard who’d been about to put a bullet in Duke’s back. The man was stirring, groaning as consciousness returned.

“Right. Completely handled.”

He dismissed Duke with the kind of casual indifference that I knew would send my second into a rage, turning to offer me his hand instead. “Felix Masters. Hell of a fight.” His smile turned wicked. “I like the way you move.”

The innuendo in his voice sent unwelcome heat racing through me, and Duke’s warning growl told me I had about three seconds before this turned ugly.

“Annabella! Duke! There you are,” a familiar voice came from behind us. “Oh, and I see you’ve already met Felix.”

I turned to see Serena hurrying across the street toward us.

I glanced between her and Felix, my stomach doing a complicated flip that was equal parts irritation and unwelcome interest.

“Wait— you’re our new recruit?” I almost slapped myself for assuming it was a witch. I shook my head. “You are not what I was expecting.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned back at me, “you’re quite the surprise in my day, too.”